


Waver

by littletechiebird



Series: Talonverse [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to explain something like this isn’t the easiest thing without sounding like you’re crazy, especially while nursing the wounds of defeat. He’s got a lot to make up for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waver

“Want to try explaining to me what just happened?”

 

There was the scolding he had been expecting. Or the start of it, anyhow. The drive back to the cave was the only thing that had felt longer, and quieter, than when Batman had picked him up from where he had collapsed to get them back to the batmobile. Though it was very likely it hadn’t felt longer because he’d been left with very little consciousness during that time.

 

Though as they walked from the batmobile and further into the cave, the well hidden and controlled frustration, and possibly disappointment, was becoming so very clear to him. It wasn’t hard for him to judge Bruce and his reactions anymore. It hadn’t been for a while now. If it has been, perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to read the patterns of the man’s behavior that had begun to spiral downwards towards destruction just a short while ago. Even now, there was still a part of him that was grateful for his unhealthy obsession with the events of Batman and Robin. He could try to blame it on the wide-eyed curiosity that came with being a child, but he was pretty sure no one would believe that, mostly since he, himself, could not. It had started out that way, sure, but it had started to mean, and to be, something more...

 

There wasn’t much to explain now. He was just as frustrated, disappointed, and even somewhat baffled. Suddenly a nightmare and poor excuse of a children’s bedtime story had come to life and was threatening his own? He supposed weird things were expected in Gotham, but this still felt so farfetched. Something had been wrong about the encounter -- besides the fact that he’d been so easily beaten. Something in his instincts was yelling at him to find something, notice something.

 

“Not sure if there’s much to explain yet.”

 

And there just wasn’t much else to say.

 

The stone-like, unrelenting stare of the man who stood opposite of him did not change, though Tim knew he was waiting. He was dissatisfied with the answer he had been given.

 

Of course he was. After all, Tim knew that with having his fight being so one-sided to the point of needing to be rescued, it would always go without saying that in such a case he would need to have a very good explanation. Therefore, lacking one now, he knew very well just how much he was falling short on the matter. Even so, this wasn’t something for him to handle all on his own. It would just end up being a question on just how crazy Bruce would find him to be as he elaborated.

 

“The Court of Owls.” He began, arms crossing over his chest, eyes narrowing upon the floor before they raised to Bruce again, cowl still drawn, giving good chance to a hint of intimidation at the very least. Bruce’s eyes hadn’t left him. “Do you remember that lullaby?”

 

A twitch.

 

Just one momentary change in Bruce’s eyes was enough to tell Tim to move forward as this small start had been enough to stir something up.

 

“Tonight was an experience that is pointing more towards the conclusion that they’re a little more than some story to scare kids into staying in line.”

 

Taking pause, he waited for input. Surely he would have something to say about the subject, especially after he had been the one to send the Talon reeling. This, of course, being a split second before the Talon had prepared to drive his knife straight into Tim’s chest. 

 

They’d been well matched for a while -- himself and the Talon. But the Talon was impressive, seeming to be much harder to wear down. It almost seemed unnatural or inhuman. He couldn’t help but wonder just what it was that he had on his side. Was the Talon perhaps a meta?

 

No matter what that answer was, it was still unacceptable, even if it brought his defeat to make a bit more sense. It still made his blood boil because he knew. He knew he was trained better, and the look that he had received from Batman told him the same thing. No matter how long he had been doing this -- he was coming on a year of being on the streets with Bruce, actually -- he would always feel the need to prove himself all the more -- especially after stunts like this one. They made him feel as if he had taken three steps back, just as he had begun to take one forward.

 

“I’ll look into it.”

 

It was all that was, and would be said. But honestly, what else could he say? They wouldn’t waste their time or energy getting all worked up over this anomaly. Actually, Tim was just glad to know he was being taken seriously, despite how ridiculous he felt his own claim was. 

 

In a moment like this, he was still amazed by the level of trust that he had managed to earn with Bruce. It had taken a lot of time and effort, and it was still earned daily (if not more frequently than that), but sometimes he was still dazzled by the life he had stumbled into. And he couldn’t help but think..

 

Had Dick ever gotten used to it?

 

Had he gotten tired of it?

 

...Was that why he left?

 

Despite the trust he had gained, there were still some things he couldn’t manage to ask. Alfred had offered a time or two to explain but.. Tim wasn’t sure it was his place to know.

 

Bruce had long turned his back on him by now to turn to the computer to start his work. There was no surprise there. It was the natural rhythm of things. When enough had been said, it was back to work. They’d finished patrol, cut off earlier than usual thanks to none other than himself, so Bruce would be doing a more electronic sweep of things, if nothing called him back out again before dawn. But this return to work told Tim that he’d been dismissed. Closing his eyes, a sigh rushed passed his lips as his hand raised to pull his mask away from his face. It would only reveal the dark circles that colored the skin beneath tired eyes that briefly burned as he opened them again. 

 

His body yearned for sleep, but there was still plenty to do. For Robin. For Tim Drake.

 

As much as he would have loved to give in and crash at the manor, he didn’t really want to have another argument with his father on where he had been, or what he had been doing. Tonight he didn’t want to make any more excuses than absolutely necessary. He was still trying to get used to having a father again, and one who seemed to be trying so hard. That was something that he had no experience with. It wasn’t something he found himself too happy to adapt to, actually. That was how he felt at most times, anyway. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his father to be well and attempting to recover, but why did he suddenly have a need to have an involvement in so much of his life when he never had before?

 

This was something that had only begun to happen within the last week. 

 

Maybe it was something he would feel less frustrated and bitter about as more time came to pass... Alfred had offered this thought to him before patrol that night as he had geared up before leaving. The man had easily called him on his frustration that he had made no effort to hide. There was no point with attempting when it came to Alfred anyway. 

 

It wasn’t as if he was giving his father much of his life to be a part of as it was. He was used to being on his own. He was used to caring for himself. It had been less of an adjustment to get used to the manor with bruce and Alfred being there -- Alfred more than Bruce, of course. But that had felt more like a home than anything he’d ever had before, and it involved a lot less secrecy. It had been so much easier that way. Of course, in reality, things were never easy. Anything that seemed to be just hadn’t shown its true colors.

 

Though it had felt like an eternity as he had left the cave and started on his way home, the difficult trek across town was forgotten as he crawled through his window and felt his feet meet his floor. Even through his sneakers, the cushioned, carpeted flooring beneath his feet was a relief. He dropped his backpack, kicked it beneath his bed, and collapsed on top of it. There was a brief second that his mind lingered on the current state of his room. 

 

It was a mess and full of clutter.

 

During his more cognizant moments, that knowledge drove him wild. It bothered him. It just wasn’t how he normally lived.

 

_‘Note to self, maybe that’s another tip to Dad that things are off.’_ He thought. 

 

If his father had ever noticed that fact about himself to begin with. It was hard to tell what he knew about him and what he didn’t. Before, it was easy, and perhaps quite accurate to say that he didn’t know a single thing.

 

Regardless, cleaning his room was just one thing on a very long list of all that he had to do -- this being on his “Tim Drake” list. In this point in time, it didn’t matter what list it was, really. In fact, right now, all he could notice was that his eyes had begun to burn again, lids heavy, and he was sure his body had changed into lead. It would have to wait. It would all have to wait. He’d figure it out.

 

As his eyes fell shut, he felt his body’s throbbing aches and pains begin to fade. As they did, and as his eyes fell shut, he was only left with the image of the Talon. 

 

It was waiting for him.


End file.
